Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Ask me about my tooters

I searched high and low for jobs when I got back to New Orleans. But since I spent all my money on booze in Boston (which btw was such a fun trip), I am very broke and couldn't really wait for shi-shi restaurants to call me back. So now my somewhat lucrative and very aggravating job is being a shot girl on Bourbon Street.

Here I've been using my canvassing skills to sell test tubes of jager and apple pucker to drunk businessmen and tourists. As much as I love being leered at and groped for 8 hr shifts, it sucks. Speaking of sucking, the trademark of the venue is the blow job shot, which I am just getting so good at. This entails deepthroating the shot whilst it is in said business man's mouth. Delivering alcohol in this manner is encouraged by management whereas, we were told, body shots are absolutely unacceptable and trashy. Oh right.

The money is decent on Fridays and Saturdays but really does not make up for the abuse or lost dignity. I'm hoping to just make enough over the next couple weekends to pay the rent and then be able to find a source of income which does not giving blow jobs, real or illusioned.

Friday, January 23, 2009

Wool Socks and Birkenstocks


Only in the vacation home of a German would such indulgences be encouraged. On my first day in Italy I was given this 'loaner' pair. I was reluctant at first, but after a week I understood their appeal to granola enthusiasts and English Professors around the world. This was one of many cultural understandings I had during the two week vacation with my German hosts and their 'Gem├╝tlichkeit' (this is a word they swear cannot be translated into English). I could type for hours about the journey, but I'll keep this brief. Full-blown album can be found here.



Christmas and New Years - Costarainera, Italy.

This is where I spent most of my time. I scratched the surface of Italian cooking, drank obscene amounts of German and Italian wine and hiked the hills. The town itself is a hide-and-seekers paradise. Streets are cobbled footpaths that criss-cross each other and weave through ancient stone buildings.

Driving the German Miss Daisy.
My hosts Elke and Kurt had to fly back early to Berlin leaving their friend Jesus, Elke's mother Helga and myself to drive back to Germany in the vehicle pictured above. Surprisingly, this fire engine red motorized shopping cart got the three of us safely through the Alps and back into Germany. Look closely and you will notice it also has dual sliding doors.

Wine Territory - Neustadt an der Weinstra├če, Germany
After a stop-over in the Black Forest we ended in Neustadt in the heart of the German wine region where Helga and Elke's sister Ute lives with her family. Spent most of the time with Elke's nieces Paula and Clara. I put together puzzles, listened to block flute concerts and watched German children's TV shows. Documented above is Clara's love of my face and getting her picture taken.

All of this was great, but the highlight of the holidays was meeting up with old man Tilley in Brussels. Leo Tilley - father, blackberry poet and closet NASCAR fan.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

lessons in procrastination

click here if you dare.

this does not bode well. you have to make the frogs switch sides. they claim that they would like to get to the other side, but frogs are known liars. they will make this a terribly difficult task for you. instead of just hopping over to the other side, they will create a frog traffic jam and you will have frogs all over the place. frogs all over the place. horrible, it will be like frog 9/11 all over again.

anyway, this is a test for Chinese second graders and it took me a full half an hour. i wish you all luck and a joyous afternoon of procrastination.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

and how.

this new year's

this new year's i sent many of you nearest and dearest to me this completely incoherent text message: "I love yoy likr whoa wish. Was eoth you lovvvvvvew." ew indeed. those of you who missed my whiskeyfingered texting should assume that that text message was also directed towards you. i kicked off the new year by drinking so many redbull champagnes (the drink of choice in budapest so says my roommate) and so much whiskey that 45 minutes into the evening i was sharing a trashcan in an empty room with a boy who isn't sexually attracted to girls who was vomiting and intermittently making out with my other roommate (a girl). then i slumped over against the wall and repeatedly told bridgette that i was going to die. shortly thereafter, a sketchy boy we hang out with slipped me some happy pills and that's how i accidentally did drugs on new year's and felt totally awesome. i made a boy hold my purse for the duration of the evening, missed the shrimp cocktail at midnight and apparently fell frequently and fell hard judging by the bruises on my body the next morning. i remember almost nothing but there was a lot of falling, dancing and gender/sexuality disregarding makeout sessions.

the following day i went out to breakfast at a thai restaurant where we drank "hartfordmosas" (white wine and oj (see: gross))and i performed circus tricks with mardi gras beads and this one kid put on one of the straw asian hats that they decorate with which made me nervous. then we went to a restaurant within walking distance to drink bloodymarys and realized that bloodymarys without alcohol are bloodyvirgins which is just awesome. then we realized that the bloodymarys were $8 each which is decidedly not awesome so we stopped at one each and bought oj and laffy taffys ("what did yes say to no?" "maybe."-i am getting a job as a joke creator for laffy taffy. something must be done about this) and proceeded to drink mimosas at home. then we ordered a partysize pizza and delivery beer! "delivery beer?", those of you who do not live in cool cities with delivery beer and cigarettes repeat with rising intonation as if to indicate a question and not a declarative statement. that's right. there's a sketchy beer and pizza place in hartford that will deliver beer but i suspect that they have a secret word like patriot or i'm not the cops, that people usually use when ordering delivery beer from them because my experience involved asking about delivery beer, being told that "we are not going to talk to about this, please," and then being called back 5 minutes after ordering to inquire as to my beer selection. delivery beer is great except for the fact that 12 beers cost $30. after finishing the delivery beer bridgette made all of us get dressed "because we need to get some fresh air and exercise." so, we walked to the bar and got rounds of whiskey shots and some guy named apollo who writes songs, one of which is called ganja rose, offered to pay me to say happy new year to his friend. i should have taken him up on the offer.

Monday, January 12, 2009

Hello.
Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me.
Is there anyone home?

Sunday, January 4, 2009

kick off in the face





i am in the process of sorting the new year photos. Well done team. Sorry I missed the ode to Sparks.

ive put more (but still not all) of the pictures on:
www.flickr.com/photos/robertbottomley

Friday, January 2, 2009

Will someone please make an appearance so I know we all made it safely to 2009?

or something. you are leaving this solitary madam in a state of uncertainty.
ok. thanks. Bye.
oh, and happy new year.